


Wolf Hunt

by j_espere



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types
Genre: Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Dragon Age Inquisition, Post-Trespasser, Trespasser DLC
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-03-13 22:01:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3397853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_espere/pseuds/j_espere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Men's hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature"</p><p>A quest brings three of the most powerful women in Thedas together to stop the seams of the world from unraveling before their own lives do...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**9:41**

Dae Cousland decapitated the darkspawn in front of her in a quick flash of her daggers. The silver of her blades flashed quickly in the torchlight as the darkspawn’s head and body toppled to the ground. The murmur at the back of her head faded. No darkspawn near.

Dae wiped her daggers against the genlock’s pants and sheathed them neatly. She had always prided herself on her grace in battle, the last few idle years had frustrated her. She had felt her body gone soft, and her fingers no longer felt as nimble.

Before her the shell of Kul-Baras stood. A year and a half she had been on this path, and here was the last tangible lead she could find.

The passing of Avernus had been a great blow for the Wardens. Firstly, the loss of a truly innovative thinker. Avernus had brought them solutions to many problems, his draughts strengthening the warden’s skills and easing their dreams. Secondly, however long that Avernus had evaded the Calling, it still claimed him in the end. This was a great blow to Dae’s wish. 

 _It wasn't truly selfish_ , Dae’s mind ran through this argument time and time again, _all Warden’s would benefit. And truly, I no longer belong to only myself, as Queen and Commander, I have a duty._

But Dae had to admit, always had to admit, this was not why she had abandoned her King and country. She didn't trample through the Deep Roads to be a better Queen. She didn't have trouble sleeping at night because of her duty to the Order. She bit her nails down because she wanted to live. She searched and she searched for a solution to her problem because back in Denerim there was a sweet, blonde boy she once met when her world had been shaken upside down. He had not righted the world for her, but he made it bearable. 

Despite the tension that lay between them they still loved each other fiercely. Between them lay the silent failure, that in ten years of marriage there was no heir to the throne of Ferelden. It kept the nobles on edge, the foreign relations on hold. With no heir to marry for alliances many countries were at a loss on how to negotiate with Ferelden. They had forgiven them in the beginning. They were young, it was okay not to think of children yet. Alistair and Dae were both nearing their twenty-first and nineteenth birthdays respectively when they were crowned. Anora and Cailan had taken the throne young as well. The country could understand the young monarchs.

But once they began to push into their mid-twenties, the whispers began. Didn't the King and Queen remember? Cailan’s death around this age had left Ferelden in a state of turmoil. It certainly wasn't a well known fact that Grey Wardens have difficulty conceiving, and while they could not be blamed for lack of trying, each month Dae became more and more distressed. The one thing she could not do.

 _More than ten years,_ Dae thought as she wandered through the abandoned thaig, _More than ten years since I killed the archdemon._ To her it felt like a lifetime away…but sometimes memories would flood back, so vivid she could feel it’s breath on her face, the stones beneath her feet, the blood spray as she ripped her sword through the beast’s neck…

Dae shook these memories from her head as she focused on what was in front of her, which was nothing. Beneath the layer of darkspawn scum the was nothing to find. A belt here, a ring there, but not a single scrap of paper. Not even proof that the Architect had inhabited this space. Dae felt the frustration build in her. The Architect would have been the only person who might have delved deep enough into the Grey Wardens to discover a cure. Dae regretted killing him, wishing she could have found more, learnt more. 

As Dae moved from chamber and chamber it became more and more obvious that the placed had been scrubbed out, any thing that would have linked the Architect to this location would have been destroyed or removed. Dae sorted through piles of garbage with a growing rage in her chest.

 _A year and a half. A year and a half and bloody fucking nothing!_ A cry ripped from her throat as she kicked over the darkspawn campsite in front of her. 

She stormed through the thaig, twice, three times, looking for something even to prove the Architect had ties to this place. Nothing. Dae wished she could cry, but there was simply nothing left in her. Her last lead had just evaporated in front of her, and she was exhausted.


	2. Chapter 2

Ella had paced the docks of Val Royeaux everyday for the past week, each day wearing on her nerves worse than the last. Now on the seventh day, her hands shook and her heart began pounding every time a ship appeared on the horizon. 

The workers and merchants on the docks had largely left Hawke alone. Apparently, the sight of a lady waiting day in and out for a ship to arrive was not an unusual occurrence.

A multitude of disasters could have befallen the ship on it’s journey from Amaranthine to Val Royeaux: storm, pirates, slaver. It could be lying on the floor of the Waking Sea, Anders lips blue as he sunk, the little girl in his arms floating away slowly, her dark curls floating through the water…

 _I can’t think about this anymore,_ Hawke chastised her imagination, _They’re alive. I know they’re alive. They’re just…late._

Hawke had begun to sweat through her fine linens as the noon sun blazed down. Seeking a spot in the shade, her thoughts wandered back to the anticipated arrivals. The seagulls who wandered the port in search of a meal squawked as she walked towards them.

Their life in hiding had been wonderful, a privacy Anders and Hawke had not been able to experience in Kirkwall with her celebrity. But it was always framed by fear. Anders and Ella did their best to help the mages, pushing Circle’s into dissolving. They kept connected to the world, attempting to discover more about the Red Lyrium that was becoming more and more prominent. But every single moment and alliance had to be considered and shrouded in secrecy. Even Stroud, who had become a regular contact of Ella’s, could not know of Bethany.

Only three people in the whole of Thedas knew of Bethany, and Hawke preferred to keep it that way. She would not have Bethany used against her.

When Varric wrote her about the appearance of Corpheyus, Hawke found herself filled with a constant dread and guilt, how stupid could she be to think the world might be fine. Bethany was too young to understand, there was no concern in Bethany’s eyes when she told her.

With a kiss from Anders and a “goodbye mummy” from Bethany, Hawke left for what was then an unknown amount of time.

The afternoon had stretched on, and as the sun began to set and Ella began to leave, one last ship appeared. 

Once it finally docked and it’s goods and passengers began to unload, Hawke had to stop herself from running full speed at the man who had just stepped of the plank. The messy hair haphazardly tied back shined in the fading sunlight, and as she approached the man’s face broke into a huge smile. He covered the distanced left between them quickly, in only a few strides of his long legs. Anders embraced Hawke passionately, his stubble rough and familiar against her face.

There was a small yelp of protestation from the squirming body between their bodies and they pulled apart. Bethany was so much larger than she last remembered, her dark hair longer, and there was a wariness in her eyes that Ella hadn’t seen before. 

“Hello my darling.” Ella said as she reached towards Bethany, who quickly buried her head in Anders shoulder.

Hawke could feel a sting at her eyes, and quickly tried to compose herself. She had been away for far too long, but so long that her own child could not recognize her?

“She’s just tired from the trip, she’s hasn’t been sleeping at all, she didn’t take well to the boat…” Anders continued as they strode leisurely towards their accomendations. 

Hawke tried to sound positive and excited for the next stage of the journey, one that would take them across lands she’d never traveled, but her throat felt thick with the intense failure she felt. How dare she have thought that everything could go back to the way it was before.


	3. Chapter 3

**9:42**

She sprinted towards the river, her lungs straining, the dirt beneath her feet felt damp. She skirted around the trees, branches brushing past her, stinging her bare skin.

“Catch me if you can!” she yelled out, her older brother, Alaris, was behind her. He was the best hunter the clan had, but she could still beat him in a one on one race any day. 

It must have rained the night before, the river bank was almost completely mud, Ava slipped and slid down the side of the bank, caking her tunic and leggings with mud. She jumped into the river, disturbing the fish, sinking her feet into the spongy sand of the riverbed. 

“Guess who won! Again!” Ava announced before she leaned down to fill her hands with the fast-flowing water of the river and bring it to her mouth. When she looked up, she found a black wolf with bright eyes staring at her. It was only a few feet away, standing over her on the top of the bank. It’s maw was slightly parted, it’s pink tongue glistening as it panted. It’s sharp teeth glistened in the sun that was now starting to lower below the tree line. 

Ava held still, not sure what to do. The wolf’s yellow-green eyes considered her, unblinking. She did not feel as if the wolf was going to attack, but the danger of the animal radiated from it. It was a familiar danger, one that she had lived with a long time, that of living with nature. If a hunter was mauled by a bear, it was tragic, but it was the way of nature. If she was killed by a wolf in a river, that was the way of nature.

Ushered forward by an instinct foreign to her, one that went against all her knowledge of nature, she took a step towards the wolf and then…she woke up.

 

Ava found herself lying in the silk sheets of her Skyhold chambers. Ava moaned as she threw her arm out from the covers, trying to find the journal and writing instrument that she kept beside her bed. Forcing her eyes open she flipped onto her stomach, opening up the journal and began writing down the dream that was beginning to slip from her memory. The wolf figure often lurked on the edge of her dreams, but this had been the first time she had been so close. 

After she finished Ava collapsed back down into bed. It was still hours before she had to be up. In the last few months she had been going to sleep later and waking earlier, she was always in a state of exhaustion. It had been three months since she had killed Corypheus, and yet she rested no easier.

In truth, Ava knew why she slept so poorly, why she was so agitated, as much as she was loath to admit it. She had never felt the same way about anyone else as she had felt about Solas. It sounded trite but it was true. When she lay in her bed she remembered the way they awoke, tangled together in her sheets. When she sat in the library her mind wandered to the way they sat beside each other in silence, plodding through paperwork, content in each others company. It was embarrassing. To pine after someone who couldn’t even be bothered to say goodbye.

It was not suppose to be this way…These words would shoot through her mind sometimes when she thought of him…the pain in his expression as he murmured it. Ava couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more going on with Solas. He had avoided talking about his past, but then again so did she. Ava thought that the two of them had a mutual agreement, to let sleeping dogs lie and not ask about parents, lovers. She appreciated it especially after the fatal attack on Clan Lavallen left her with no home left outside of the comfort she felt at Solas’ side. Maybe it was because of that lack of communication that Solas felt he could not tell her what was going on, and left without telling her why.

Her brain floated through the hypotheticals, what if she hadn’t agreed to let him take her vallaslin? What if she had drunk from the Well of Sorrows? What had she done so utterly wrong with Solas?

 _You have a rare and wonderful soul_ …Those words would ring through her mind for the rest of her life. 

Ava flipped back the covers, forcing herself out of her bed before the sun had even risen, knowing that if she lay for a moment longer she would begin a spiral into those memories, and she’d rather ignore than mull.

 

Ava regretted not sleeping later, she began nodding during a meeting in the late afternoon, and was expected to host a fétè for several arriving ambassadors in the great hall that evening. That was what the role of the Inquisitor had become since the death of Corepheyus, closing rifts and hosting parties. Josephine was unimpressed with her lethargic attitude and sent her early to her chambers to “get ready for the evening.” Ava napped at her desk for an hour before two serving girls came to dress her. 

The dress was a beautiful dark green contraption that had been specially designed by Vivienne to correct any of Ava’s flaws, and accentuate her assets. It was also near impossible to move in, a corset and tight skirt held her body in a vice grip. The bodice was delicately embroidered, and pieces of fabric sat off her shoulders counted as sleeves, drawing attention to her collarbones and neck. The rest of the dress hugged her every curve, if she tried to bend over she would bust right out of her dress, and most of the fabric of the dress pooled on the floor, threatening to trip her.

As Ava was being laced into the corset, she recalled Cassandra’s comment on the dress the first time she saw it: ‘a beautiful death trap.’

As the two girls chattered at her they forced the dress over her head. It had originally been made for the ball at the Winter palace, back when she spent most of her time sprinting, climbing, and crawling through most of southern Thedas. Now however, it was just a little too tight, but no one had been brave enough to suggest to the Inquisitor having it altered. Including Ava herself. 

She sat at her desk while the girls did her hair. They were in a good mood, one of them had received an anonymous love letter and they were trying to guess who the admirer was. Ava restrained her comments to murmurs of agreement, trying not to poison the girls mood with obvious disinterest. 

"Lady Lavallen?" One of the girls asks tentatively. 

"Hmm?" Ava turned her head, the tone of the girl sounded slightly concerned. 

"You're all ready." Ava realized that she had been sitting there for a moment longer than was particularly acceptable after the girls had finished her hair and had moved to the door. 

"Right. Thank you." She felt the heat rise to her face. She had been lost in her own thoughts, mind wandering to the wolf of her dreams and she hadn't even noticed they had finished. _Tonight is going to be a long night_ , Ava thought. 

 

As soon as she reached the great hall Josephine pulled her through the throngs of people to the guests of honour for the evening. She had become an apt host in the last few months, and Josephine no longer felt the need to babysit her as she chatted and mingled, discussing everything from cheese plates to wyven killing tactics. Tomorrow she would have real meetings with all of them, but tonight was a chance to show them, in a kind and welcoming way, what sort of resources she could command.

At some point she had been thrust a chalice of wine and the wait staff were doing a very good job of making sure it was never empty for long. Soon Ava was feeling tipsy, and felt a bit more legitimate pleasure about the evening. 

She had moved to the banquet table to grab something to eat when she spotted Cullen in the corner, standing alone with his face buried in a goblet. Ava moved over to him quickly.

Cullen and her had become particularly close in the last few months, playing chess or wicked grace. Sometimes they would sit for hours in the war room, simply working beside each other in silence. Ava would have been lying if she said Cullen wasn't filling a part of the loneliness she had been wallowing in the last few months. He always made time for her when she sought him out for advice or company. 

"Enjoying the party Commander?"

"Not even a little bit and you know it." Cullen was very handsome and his aversion to the advances of Orlesian nobles only drove them more wild for his attention. 

"But do you not know that becoming the lover of Lady Montpiere is a very comfortable position for someone such as yourself?" Ava loved to tease him, affecting a terrible Orlesian accent just to have him glare at her. 

Ava leaned against the same wall that Cullen was, observing the hall from their darkened corner. 

"At least they brought out the good wine." Ava said as she took another sip from her cup. 

Cullen chuckled.

"We should sneak a bottle away, I'm sure no one will miss it or us." 

"Ah, a man after my own heart." A small sober voice in Ava's head chastised her. The words had slipped out without thinking, but they were careless. 

"But If I drink anymore I think I'll fall asleep. I may have to sneak away." 

"And leave me alone? What happened to the Valour of the Hero of Thedas?" Cullen teased. Ava reached up to put her hand on Cullen's shoulder. 

"I know, I know, but the bravery can only go so far." Ava was distracted by the soft feeling between her fingers, and realized that she had been stroking Cullen's mantle. Cullen looked down at her hand and then at her with an eyebrow raised. Ava quickly removed her hand and returned her gaze to the hall. 

"Well well, the Inquisitor shows her true colours." Cullen looked out into the hall for a moment before murmuring "Shit." And pushing himself away from the wall. 

"What?" Ava asked, trying to follow Cullen's line of sight.

"Duchess Fouclay. She wants me to marry her daughter, the last time I refused she threatened to kill me." Ava looked to see an older woman with an elaborate swan motif mask hobble towards them as fast as she could. 

"We better run! Quick, quick, into Josie's office." Ava's thoughts felt erratic, she shouldn't be hiding from her own party, but still she grabbed Cullen's arm and pulled him through the nearest door. 

She kept a hold of his arm as she sprinted down the stairs into the belly of the keep. Giggling and panting, the pair reached the bottom of the stairs. 

"You are such a bad influence on me." Cullen said, shaking his hand. 

Overcoming with gratitude for her friend; Cullen who was willing to go along with anything that she did, she reached upwards on her tip toes to kiss him on the cheek. 

She brushed he lips against his cheek, which was rough with stubble. And when she pulled away, Cullen's gaze caught hers, it was a deep look that made her stomach drop, but she had become distracted by something else. 

Ava reached out and traced the scar over Cullen's lip. 

"How did you get it?" She said, breather than she was expecting.

Cullen grimaced, and Ava dropped her hand. 

"Kirkwall. I wasn't fast enough. A demon, well a Mage I used to know, attacked. All it took was one swipe, I didn't notice for hours later, and of course we had no healers so it wouldn't have mattered if we did." Cullen kept gaze focused on something just above her head. Ava, touched by his story, woozy from the wine, and greatly influenced by an ache in her heart that was overtaking her better judgment, reached upwards, balancing on her toes, pressed her lips to his.


	4. Chapter 4

**9:43**

Hawke roamed the quiet library, it’s looming and dusty stacks muting all noise made her feel as if she was floating underwater. Weisshaupt was serenity personified for Hawke. It was a castle meant to house thousands, but there was only a small amount of wardens actually left in Weisshaupt, a few hundred as most, and only a few fresh recruits left. On a high hill in the middle of nowhere in the Anderfels, the fortress sat, letting Hawke both take responsibility for her action and stay isolated from the world. A perfect balance.

The task of record keeping and organizing the library of the Warden’s had been left a singular man, an older fellow named Timothy, who walked with a limp because his real left leg had been crushed by an ogre. There was far too much for one person to organize, so here Hawke was, sorting and cataloging thousands of years of paper trying to find something of use. Huffing a little, Hawke grabbed a stack of loosely bound books to bring back to her chambers. 

Her original intent in relocating her entire life to Weisshaupt was to help the First Warden rehabilitate the Warden’s image that had been decimated by Corypheus, which was, any way you looked at it, a product of Hawke’s inability to let a mystery rest. However, by the time that Hawke arrived at Weisshaupt, Corypheus was dead and the First Warden had no interest in rebuilding the order. A tedious alliance between the Wardens at Weisshaupt and their neighbouring lords that had them as the sole law enforcement of the area. This was slowly disintegrating the Warden’s autonomy and resources. Now it was all Hawke could do to get the First Warden to cast his gaze further than the borders of the Anderfels.

So, now, instead of spurring on the Warden’s towards their future, she was stalled, digging into the Warden’s library, searching for more information about ancient magisters, origins of the blight, and with Anders, vague rituals that were nearly impossible to translate.

She returned back to her chambers, through the empty halls of the fortress. She was not necessarily looking forward to returning to her rooms. She loved Anders and Beth with all of her heart, but both of them found Weisshaupt their prison as opposed to their sanctuary. There were no other children for Bethany to play with, and she had long had enough of amusing herself. Anders mood wasn't much help, his patience wearing thin quickly when she was bothering him.

As she reached their door, she could hear the reverb of Anders’ voice and the tittering response of Bethany’s. Inside Hawke could see, past the unmade bed and pile of clothes on the floor, Anders sitting at the table full of paper, Beth on his lap, pointing at the book in front of them.

Beth had tucked herself against Anders chest, but they were both using their right hands to prop their chins up as they leaned as against the table and pointing at the book with their other hand. This mirroring brought a smile to Hawke’s face. Beth had inherited most of Ella’s features, dark hair, blue eyes, the same nose in miniature on her daughter’s face. But every once in a while she would do something that screamed of her father. She would pinch up her face in the same way he did, or Hawke would look at her from a different angle and see Anders brow or jawline reflected in the four-year-olds face.

“Mummy!” Bethany looked up at the noise and squirmed to get off of Anders’ lap and run to her.

“Hello, sweetheart.” Hawke said as she dumped the books on the table and picked up her child, who was jumping at her, arms extended.

“Find anything interesting?” Hawke asked Anders as Bethany played with the charm Hawke wore around her neck.

“More of the same I'm afraid. If it looks promising, half of it's crumbled away.” Anders looked tired, crows feet and dark circles around his eyes had become even worse in the last few months and Hawke had spotted some grey in his mess of hair.

“Do you think this is worth it?” Hawke chewed the inside of her cheek. It was a doubt that had been eating her for some time.

“I mean what are our other options?” Anders snapped, which jarred Hawke a little bit. “It's not as if we can leave.”

“That's not true and you know it.”

“You're not the one bound to this Order.” This was the argument Anders often brought up, his moral expectations of himself had taken a beating when he gave in to going to Weisshaupt.

“They won't stop you, they can't stop you. If they try to the First Warden would have to reverse their neutrality on the Mage rebellion and you know they won't do that. They don't have enough of a sense of fun.” Hawke was very done with Anders tone and attitude. You could never reason with him in the moment, you had to wait out his sour mood and try again later. Humour was her last defense.

Anders just shook his head and returned to his reading. Hawke placed Beth back down on the floor and let her wander off.

“So you want to go back into hiding? I recall you saying you wanted to ’make this right.’” Anders said casually, passive aggressively as he flipped through the books she had brought.

“And I still want to do that. I'm just having a hell of a time convincing the asshole who runs this place that it's worth the time! Maybe we'd be better off helping the new college form, or returning to the Inquisition. I don't know!” Bethany was staring at her across the room, eyes wide at her raised voice. “That's why I’m asking you Anders.”

His face softened. Hawke slid into the chair across from him, folding her hands in her lap.

“I didn't want to come here in the first place Hawke. I'd leave it in a heartbeat if you asked. But do you really think the Warden’s are such a lost cause?”

“Maybe they are.” Hawke exhaled. “I don't know. I'm going to write Varric. He's at least still trying clean up Thedas with good old Bianca. Maybe we should go where we can at least help?”

“And the research?” Anders asked.

“My love, do you really think you are going to find the answers to life, the fade, and everything? Bethany will drive you crazy before you'll even get the chance.” Anders shook his head as Bethany bolted up at the sound of her name.

One step at a time, Hawke had to write Varric.


End file.
